Pushed Too Far
by Dixie Darlin
Summary: Wreck-It Ralph wasn't the first person that Gene taunted into taking desperate measures. Pre-RoadBlasters


**Pushed Too Far**

Everybody knew not to mention _RoadBlasters_ in Turbo's presence. Ever since Litwak had plugged in the newer and flashier racing game, the kids had all but stopped playing _TurboTime_ altogether. It was considered a good day if the former crowd-pleaser got five players to come by and drop their precious quarter in his slot. Despondent over the loss of his popularity, he spent most of his time drinking root beer at _Tapper_'s in hopes of forgetting that the rival game even existed.

So when Gene sat down beside him that night, despite there being plenty of other empty seats at the pub, he came in with full knowledge that being replaced had wounded the racer's pride and cut him deeply. That being said, Gene was never one to sugarcoat things.

"So how's it feel being like the rest of us?"

The insensitive question rolled off the Nicelander's tongue as easily as if he'd asked him if he were having a good evening. Turbo, who had been slouched over his half-empty mug with his head hanging down over it and his arms around it as if to protect it from being stolen from him, only tensed up his shoulders upon hearing said question and turned his head to the side that would be facing the opposite direction.

Tapper shot Gene a silent warning with his large blue eyes that were now lowered in a disapproving fashion, but placed a glass of his game's beverage down in front of the blocky NPC. Gene had to use both hands to hold the glass seeing as how it was almost as tall as he was and took a few sips, the foam getting all over his face and having to use a napkin to wipe it off.

"I guess after being on top all these years, you felt like you were untouchable," he continued to muse out loud despite not having received any acknowledgement from his fellow pub dweller. "Litwak's money-maker, the top dog, king of the world, cream of the crop, whatever you want to call yourself. Probably thought you were better than the rest of us, huh? That we were beneath you, that you didn't belong with us."

He shook his head as if he almost felt bad for the man. "And now here you are with the rest of us, twiddling your thumbs waiting for some kid who wants to waste his weekly allowance on your game." He chuckled lightly at that as if there was truly something humorous about his statement. "Not so fun being the bottom of the barrel with us, is it?"

Turbo only slightly tilted his head back in Gene's direction, enough for the Nicelander to see one yellow eye angled in an angry slit at him. A word he still did not speak but that look said plenty.

_Best stop while you're ahead. I'm not in the mood._

Gene ignored this and struggled to lift his mug again to sip some more. The foam was getting in his mustache, something he hated. He wished Tapper had straws to drink from but that item wasn't part of the game's inventory. He wiped his mouth again and sighed, relaxing in his seat, his legs not even able to swing themselves due to their exaggerated shortness.

"Have you checked out the new game yet?" Gene asked casually. "I hear the graphics are pretty sharp in there, best we've had in a while. 'Realistic', someone said. What do _you_ think?"

Turbo tilted his head down at his drink again, keeping his left arm down on the bar to block Gene's view while he used his right hand to pick up his mug and take a few sips. He licked his lips once done and sat the drink down, continuing to glare into it.

"Didn't like it, huh?" Gene saw that his glass was sweating, something else he hated, and he grabbed at some more napkins to pile around it to keep it from eventually leaving a ring on the bar. "I suppose you would know, since you're the expert on racing around here. I mean, it's not like we ever had another one before this new one showed up. I'll just take your word for it."

Turbo's shoulders bunched up more, his face getting tense and his eyes getting more narrow as he stared harder into his drink. Gene sipped more of his drink, the routine being the same as the last few times he'd drank. A few of the other patrons began to whisper among themselves and pointing in the direction of the mismatched duo sitting at the bar alone.

"I heard you were in the middle of a game when Litwak plugged it in," Gene mentioned offhand. "That the kids didn't even finish playing...don't think I've ever heard of that happening before. They must've been fairly bored to get so easily distracted, wouldn't you say?"

The hand that the racer was using to grip his mug handle became tight, the glass trembling against the bar's surface because its user was shaking as well. His nostrils flared and his entire body was as tense as a trip wire.

"So what happened anyway?" the Nicelander kept prodding, his curiosity growing the more he talked. "Did you veer off track and crash, giving yourself a Game Over in order to get back to the starting screen? Or did you just stop in the middle of the track, watching your opponents drive past you, waiting for someone to return to the controls so you could at least _move_?" He scoffed lightly as he pictured the scene in his mind. "Did you even _get_ to the finish line or did the game finally time itself out?"

Turbo shut his eyes tight, keeping his head down still, his fists still clenched and trembling. His breathing was rapid and shallow, barely audible to the blocky NPC pestering him. Someone coughed and another began to whistle a cheery tune out of anxiety.

"Hurts too much to talk about it?" Gene assumed out loud, taking yet another sip of his drink. "Can't say I blame you. I guess if it were my game getting replaced and I had to deal with the possibility of becoming homeless, I wouldn't want to talk about it either." He shrugged as he wiped his mouth again. "But that's the life of a has-been, right?"

Turbo's eyes popped open and he jerked up off of his stool, knocking it onto the floor behind him. The hand that he had been using to squeeze his drink's handle now raised the mug into the air and slammed it onto the floor where it crashed into a multitude of shiny glass fragments intermixed with the remains of the beverage it had been holding.

Tapper and the few patrons that were in the bar turned and let out a unanimous gasp at the sight of the now furious racing star glaring his yellow eyes, full of wild hatred and pain, into the beady ones belonging to the mayor of Niceland. Breaths held, everyone waited to see what Turbo would do now that he had been pushed to the edge by the little motormouth's cruel words. Tapper secretly hoped he would punch Gene right off of his stool; no one wanted to hear talk like that during their lowest moment.

Turbo's gray lips peeled back to show off his bared teeth, shoulders rising up and down as he seethed, staring with unblinking eyes at his taunter.

"Rather high and mighty for a guy who does nothing but put out pies on a windowsill," he growled so low that it was almost impossible to hear him.

A stiff arm rose to point a rigid finger in Gene's face, who only leaned back as if it were a fly buzzing in his face. "I'll show you," Turbo whispered raggedly, his eyes now darting around the room at everyone watching. He stepped back from the Nicelander and rotated his body around to point at everyone else in the room. "I'll show _all _of you!"

People were too scared to say anything to calm him down, all eyes in the room on him like he were performing a play for them. Turbo began slowly backing his way towards the exit, the enraged look still on his face, looking more like a wild animal than a humanoid being.

"I'll show _all_ of you who's a _has-been_!" he spat out, the bitterness evident in his words. "Mark my words, you'll _never_ forget _my_ name!"

He turned swiftly and escaped out into the back hallway, leaving everyone hanging on his last words. After a few suspenseful seconds, the patrons let out a relaxing sigh, relishing in the absence of tension in the room. Gene only shrugged and turned back around in his seat to try and finish his drink.

Tapper approached him, not looking too happy, and said, "What do you think he meant by that? You think he'll try something desperate?"

Gene's eyes rolled upwards and shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous. He's just a spoiled brat that was the favorite child for too long and doesn't know how to share the attention with his new little brother. And what would he do anyway? His game's _over_. Once his game gets unplugged, and it surely will since _RoadBlasters_ is such a big hit, no one will remember the name 'Turbo' ever again."

* * *

It was the next day _TurboTime_ and _RoadBlasters_ were unplugged...the phrase "going Turbo" was eventually coined...Turbo's name lived on in legend because of his criminal actions...and Gene never went back to _Tapper_'s bar again.

He spends his evenings at home drinking martinis, never once leaving Niceland, in attempts to drown out the notion that he had played a role in what happened that fateful day.


End file.
